


repentance

by gh0steses



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:37:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gh0steses/pseuds/gh0steses
Summary: "I know I blew it when I sold us out to Rollins, but…” Jesper hesitates for a moment. He's sure his next statement doesn't quite ring true, but he has to hope, even a little. “There has to be something I can do to fix it. Right?”





	repentance

**Author's Note:**

> who knows if this is gonna go anywhere. screw it let's go it goes where it goes
> 
> edit: now that I've gotten farther in crooked kingdom. I'm unsure.

Jesper has been standing outside Kaz's office for a good five minutes, clenching and unclenching his fists, tapping the handles of his revolvers with his thumbs. Nobody goes near Kaz Brekker's office- not even near the second flight of stairs leading to the attic,- aside from Inej, but even she tends not to overstay her welcome. Saints help anyone outside their circle of six who finds out Dirtyhands could so much as  _tolerate_ company in any capacity. So accustomed to being unbothered, Kaz would even leave the door open occasionally, as if daring someone to come and disturb his work. Luckily, today isn't one of those days. That doesn't soothe Jesper's anxiety any; when he finally gets off the final stair and onto the landing, he hesitates before turning the doorknob. But that doesn't mean he's going to let himself look like a guilty child, admitting to his parents that he skipped school and giving and empty, nervous promise not to do it again.

When Jesper strides into his office, Kaz is almost something close to surprised. The stairs leading to his office aren't exactly quiet, and neither is Jesper. His delayed entry made Kaz assume he would lose courage, trudge back downstairs to try and catch a moment of sleep in the Slat or drive himself further into debt Saints know where. Kaz doesn't bother to look up from the ultimately useless ledger he was working on even though he and Jesper are well aware it doesn't require his full attention. “What business?” The utter disinterest in Kaz's voice isn't exactly unexpected, but it makes Jesper's nervousness worse. This was a bad idea from the start. He refuses to wring his hands like he wants to, or roll back on his heels, or fidget. It's a Saints given miracle that he's staying still, but he needs to at least seem serious. He can't resist completely, settling for resting his thumbs on the grips of his guns. Kaz catches the movement in the edge of his vision and he spares the briefest glance upward. The completely mirthless look on Jesper's face is something Kaz hasn't seen before. “Well. Don't you look determined,” Kaz says curtly, pen gliding over paper as he tallies up the gains and losses of the Crow Club for the past month, another book to collect dust on the shelf until Per Haskell needs for something ultimately meaningless. “What, did you come to shoot me?”

That's the closest thing to cracking a joke Kaz has done around Jesper in a while, though Kaz isn't one for overt humor in the first place; that's pretty much Jesper's job at this point. “No- I-” Jesper cuts himself off with a huff. He's fed up with himself for having trouble forming words. And with Kaz for being such a bitch to talk to. “Look. What would it take for you to trust me again? I know I blew it when I sold us out to Rollins, but…” Jesper hesitates for a moment. He's sure his next statement doesn't quite ring true, but he has to hope, even a little. “There has to be something I can do to fix it. Right?”

A gloved hand passes over Kaz's face, dragging heavily while the faintest hint of a sigh leaves him. He rests his elbows on his desk, lacing his fingers and resting his chin on them. The question in and of itself is absolutely absurd. Kaz's gaze stabs at Jesper as if testing his tensile strength, how much it would take for him to crack under the pressure, unyielding as his rough, grinding voice hangs on each word with deliberate torpor when he says, “Jes, you could bring me the head of every bastard dense enough to cross me on a silver platter and I'm not sure I'd even consider it.”

Jesper tries to laugh his disappointment off. He knew that was coming, so why did it still sting? Being outside Kaz's relatively good graces feels dangerous, and it's not the kind of danger Jesper can appreciate; kneecaps-smashed-to-gravel danger, not the thrill of a gunfight. “I'll try when you're not so moody, then,” Jesper replies with a noncommittal wave, slinking toward the door.

“Don't let the door hit you on your way out.” As soon as the door shuts, Kaz returns to his work. His mind strays back to having been called _moody_ . That's certainly a new one. Jesper may be taking advantage of the fact that he gets to mouth off at Kaz more than most people and get away with it intact and unthreatened. They had never been _close_ per se, but Jesper had always been decently reliable until the incident- given that he was on a job and not gambling. Perhaps it could be worth it to soothe Jesper's discomfort to preserve that asset, even though, when wracking his brain for something,  _anything_ that could work- or at least seem convincing enough,- next to nothing feasible comes up.


End file.
